


Arrangement

by unsettled



Category: Sherlock Holmes (2009)
Genre: Community: sherlockkink, Fluff, Kinkmeme, M/M, sleep habits
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-29
Updated: 2010-06-29
Packaged: 2017-10-10 07:46:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/97333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unsettled/pseuds/unsettled
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Holmes matches his own breath to Watson's, and the thrumming of his heart slows, the turning of his mind eases. At last, when there is nothing but Watson, he is calm, and moments later, he is asleep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arrangement

**Author's Note:**

> Fill for this kink meme prompt: _Holmes discovers that when his mind is spinning too fast for sleep, listening to the sound of Watson's breathing gives him something to focus on and calm himself. But it is an awkward thing to bring up to one's flat mate, so Holmes contrives in a multitude of ways to get Watson to fall asleep overnight in the sitting room on as many evenings as possible.  
> Watson eventually begins to suspect something is up._

It has been an interesting case, one that actually required him to engage his mind rather than let it ramble through the evidence. Unfortunately, once his brain was going, he found it much more difficult to disengage.

It is spinning now, as fast as light, as fast as sound, and putting together scraps of nothing to give him everything, laid out and presented as truth, snatched away before he can focus and replaced with more, things he didn't want to know, things he is tired of knowing. It is tiresome when the world is reduced to a whole, all random bits and pieces connected by obvious evidence, and he would welcome sleep, if it could find somewhere to lodge in his over cranked brain. He is only half aware of the fire, of the pressure of his hands on temples, the track of feet in the street, the calling of London, the spinning of the world too much to take in, but he is fully aware of Watson beside him, Watson asleep in his chair, Watson breathing slowly and steadily, a quiet sigh of air, a pattern in exhales and inhales, unfaltering, an anchor slowly drowning out the pressing data. Holmes matches his own breath to Watson's, and the thrumming of his heart slows, the turning of his mind eases. At last, when there is nothing but Watson, he is calm, and moments later, he is asleep.

*

It is not often he has such a case, but Watson is proving to have a knack for ferreting out the best. It is not long before another has his mind whirling, and nothing will do but to provide it with the focus of Watson's sleeping breath. Without Watson being aware of the fact, because he would find it disturbing, and then they would be awkward, and it would probably lead to questions being asked that he didn't care to answer, and he is rather tired of that sort of thing. This unagreed upon arrangement suits for a time, but Watson is not always willing to be lulled to sleep in the sitting room, especially when it wrecks such havoc on his leg to spend all night in his chair. Tonight is one such night; Holmes has been trying his best, but Watson rises despite it all. "I'm to bed," he states, and Holmes sighs at the thought of another sleepless night. Not that he has anything against sleepless nights, but it is generally his choice whether he sleeps or remains awake.

Watson pauses in the doorway. "Holmes," he says, quietly, exasperated. "Come along."

Holmes blinks him, unable to connect facts despite his mind running at three times normal speed. Watson blinks back, and steps back to tug him from his chair.

"I don't care to spend another night in that chair" he explains, patient, "and you will never get to sleep otherwise."

As Watson leads him to his bed, Holmes cannot help but think this is a much more satisfactory arrangement.


End file.
